


in a photograph

by blueacorn



Series: Viewfinder [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 19:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueacorn/pseuds/blueacorn
Summary: Daichi supposes that after six months of Kuroo walking into his bakery, he'd have to warm up to him sometime.





	in a photograph

Daichi isn't sure when he'd learnt to recognize the heavy, booted steps of Kuroo Tetsurou, or when his lips had learnt to curve into a pleased grin at the sound of them followed by the soft tinkle of the bell above the door. 

“Kuroo,” he greets, flipping the notebook he'd been scribbling in closed, “Here again, I see.”

He isn't sure when his irritation had dulled down into exasperation, into tolerance. Or rose into something else.

Kuroo casts him an amused look from where he's lingering by the pastries.

“Ah, Sawamura, you're breaking my heart. What happened to good customer service?”

Or why he's beginning to look forward to the warmth that envelops him at the familiar slow drawl.

Daichi shrugs, smile sharpening, “Why butter up a sure thing?”

Kuroo chokes, then snickers. His sly grin widens as he shakes his head, and Daichi has to fight to catch his breath. It's almost embarrassing, he thinks, eyes following the soft rays of an evening sun as they fall sleepily against ruffled dark hair. 

“You've changed,” Kuroo is saying, fighting to keep his tone sombre, “What happened to the man who held my hand and asked me what was wrong?”

Daichi rolls his eyes, ignoring the faint heat in his cheeks.

“That never happened, you ass,” then, gaze drawn to the hands in question, Daichi frowns, finding them hidden in too-small pockets. “No camera today?”

A hand lifts, Kuroo ducking his head and rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck where his camera strap usually lies. “I'm, ah, taking a break. Just finished a big job, so I figure I deserve it.” 

It's strange, almost wrong to see Kuroo's hands empty. To see slim, strong fingers that are not curled protectively around his _partner_ , as he insists on calling it, always patting the large camera fondly. To see him without the ever-present bag that holds-

_“Anything my partner might need,” Kuroo declares, flicking lightly at the lock of stubborn hair flopping lazily over his eye._

_Daichi couldn't decide if he should suggest a haircut or loan him a strawberry hair clip Yachi had left behind. He'd eyed the mass of dark hair, shuddered, and quietly nudged the clip further into its corner, certain that the small piece of plastic would never survive the battle._

“Oh? I think you deserve an entire cake too,” Daichi says, tapping at the display case beside him. 

Kuroo sighs loudly, digging into his back pocket, pulling out a battered wallet as he ambles forward, “Sometimes I think you value my money more than our friendship.”

“What friendship?” he shoots back, deadpan.

“Ah, it’s already cool enough in here, Sawamura. No need to make it any colder.”

Daichi huffs out a breath, shaking his head as Kuroo crouches in front of the polished glass, an exaggerated frown on his face. 

“They all look so good~”

“Just get up here, idiot,” Daichi grumbles, grabbing the box from the counter behind him. 

He’d made it on a whim, early in the morning, Kuroo’s usual, “Something with lemon in it,” ringing in his head. Unfortunately, still not early enough to avoid Suga’s curious eyes as he pushed open the back door and peered over at Daichi’s workstation on his way into the office. His eyes had widened at the tiny camera mounted on the cupcake, and he’d turned accusingly at Daichi. 

_“Daichi!” Suga protested, “You can’t have a love life without telling me about it!”_

_“It has nothing to do with my love life!”_

_“Oh? Are you making a custom cupcake for all your customers?”_

_“Suga-”_

_“Yes, yes, “back to work!””_

He hadn’t had a reason, and he regrets ever being impulsive- _he should have known better -_ as Kuroo tugs the box over to himself, confused. 

“This is-?” 

Daichi lets out a breath, frowning, “You’ve asked for the same thing everyday for the past six months, I think I’d know your taste by now.”

Kuroo’s lips part, as if in surprise, as his gaze darts back down to the box.

“May I?” he asks, fingers tapping against its lid. 

Daichi nods, turning away, busying himself with nothing, hands running aimlessly along the countertop, cleaned to perfection, he notes with disappointment.

And then-

“Sawamura.”

Soft, awed, disbelieving.

Daichi breathes. He turns. 

And is greeted with the reason he’d made the damned cupcake.

Lips half curled into a smile. Still hesitant, as if it’s waiting for a reason to retreat. Small, unsure, but _there._ The smile he’d only ever seen when-

_“My heart’s a delicate thing, Sawamura,” Kuroo declared, sliding his portfolio across the counter, “be gentle!”_

_Daichi rolls his eyes, retort ready on his tongue as he flips the folder open._

_His words died at the first image, his breath stolen at the second. His hand hovered over each picture, so very tempted to touch, but afraid to._

_He looks up at Kuroo- a photographer, he finally, really understands now - and laughs, overwhelmed._

_“They’re amazing.”_

_And Kuroo smiles._

“Yes,” Daichi says, startling himself as he replies to a question he hadn’t realised he’d heard. 

“You made this,” Kuroo repeats in a whisper, and suddenly, he’s reaching out. 

“Kuroo, what-?” and Daichi must have moved forward, because his hands are resting on the counter, Kuroo’s settling above them. 

“Your hands,” and Kuroo’s voice is unusually low, unusually solemn, “they were the first thing I saw.”

Daichi’s not sure he understands what’s happening; he isn’t sure if it’s the warmth of Kuroo’s skin against his that is uncomfortable, or- 

He doesn’t pull away.

“I can’t remember what I was doing, why I was there, but I remember turning around- and seeing you. Your hands, through the glass. I can’t explain- I’m not a poet. But- I took the worst picture of my life that day, and it was your fault.”

Kuroo breaks off with a chuckle, still quiet. His eyes shift from their hands to meet Daichi’s gaze.

“Then I came back the next day,” he continues, “and it was your lips, curving into a smile. Then it was your eyes, with that scary glint it gets. And I kept coming back for more, because those little pieces weren’t enough.”

Kuroo’s hands release his, and Daichi begins to retreat, unwanted blush heating his cheeks, but Kuroo leans forward, arm outstretched, fingertips catching and resting against the curve of Daichi’s neck. 

“Kuroo-”

“I wanted to take them all, every piece I found, freeze them in time the only way I knew how,” He grins, sheepish, “You know how panicky we get when we think we might lose something.”

Daichi cuts in then, a hand rising, fingers curling loosely around Kuroo’s wrist.

“It’d be pretty hard to leave my only source of income, wouldn’t it?” His voice comes out irritatingly breathless, and he resists the urge to clear his throat.

“Yes,” Kuroo agrees, smile softening, “So, instead of hanging around and imagining you in my photos like a creep, I have to ask.”

“Yeah?”

“Sawamura,” Kuroo breathes, leaning in, “Would you-”

And suddenly he breaks away, grin turned impish, “-mind if I used the phone number Suga wrote on the box to ask you out sometime?”

He turns the box around with a flourish, and scribbled on the inside of the lid in stark black ink is Daichi’s number, signed off with a _Call him! Xoxo,_ in annoyingly familiar handwriting.

Daichi blinks.

Then, gaze darkening as he tugs off his apron, “Get out,”

Kuroo laughs, grabbing the box as he dances away, “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes, damn it!” He yells, as he tosses the fabric at Kuroo, “Now get out!”

The bell jingles merrily along with Kuroo’s laughter as the door closes behind him. 

“Idiot,” Daichi huffs, in the silence, moving to collect his balled up apron, lips twitching into a smile he cannot control. 

Not even Asahi creeping in late dampens it. 

Still scared Asahi to hell though. 

**Author's Note:**

> i first started this with a little drabble from kuroo's pov of him first seeing daichi, i'll probably post that next just for some context, bc kuroo probably did a poor job explaining himself here. 
> 
> i hope yall enjoy! thanks for reading <3


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